Monday, March 12, 2012

It's been a day. Nothing noteworthy, nothing outstanding, nothing traumatic other than the aftershocks of a dream which remains unremembered but deeply felt all the same. I've been off. My skin crawling with anxiety, breath sticky in my lungs.

Outside the wind howled like the apocalypse; rain directly parallel to the river, bamboo brushing the ground in prostrate repentance, birch grunting like sea sick women.

And me. I stood outside in the mud, shivering in nothing but an old white tank and bare feet, willing the weather to make me feel alive.

And then, honest truth on my life, in that gale force that would send the stoutest beast cowering, in the flood that threatened the very integrity of the earth, a hummingbird flew to me. Winter colors of muted olive and seaweed. Flying from the north, she flew to me, lighted on the twisted cherry, paused for only half a second and was gone.

And I laughed at this mother of ours, the one who keeps our hearts whole and our creatures fed. Because even in my small tantrum, I was heard.

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comments:

and this: another reason i love you. i often go outside wearing "less-than"....willing the weather to make ME feel alive. and: she does. the birds flit and fly and chatter around me. the rabbit hops up close to the wire of his cage in order to greet me. i don't often feel the cold in my bones 'til i've gone back inside the warm house.

I love how the earth always reaches out to us, if we just are open to it- stormy days and all. thanks for sharing how you captured this in your sketchbook. I believe that hummingbirds are one of my most favorite creatures among us.

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